


summer sour and summer sweet

by thimbleoflight



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimbleoflight/pseuds/thimbleoflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Saruhiko tying and blindfolding Misaki when they do it.</p>
<p>It was strange, and it was new, and that was why this had worked so far. It didn't need to be the way that it used to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	summer sour and summer sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YuGiOhRox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuGiOhRox/gifts).



> Title is from "Philosophize with It! Chemicalize with It!" by Kishi Bashi.
> 
> I hope this is remotely similar to what you wanted. XD

Misaki’s socks were the first things to go.

“Dis- _gusting_ ,” said Saruhiko, peeling them off, one at a time, pinching the elastic at the ankles delicately between the very tips of his index finger and thumb. “The _smell_. Don’t you ever bathe? How long have you been _wearing_ these?”

Misaki nudged him with his foot. Not quite a kick, but certainly not something gentle, either.

“If you use _that_ voice—”

“Promised I wouldn’t.”

Misaki’s shoulders relaxed, his fists unclenching from the sheets on his bed. That had been predictable.

They were the same striped tan-and-burgundy sheets that Misaki had bought during their time in HOMRA. Saruhiko thought… he had been with Misaki that day. Misaki’d made him buy sheets of his own, too—Saruhiko'd taken the sheets from his home, and they’d been too big for the bed he'd bought for their apartment. Saruhiko had realized that Misaki wanted a fresh start for their home together, and had made Saruhiko make a fresh start too.

But he'd kept them, even when Saruhiko had left.

Well—they were still good, after all.

“Yeah, I know.”

He leaned down for a kiss, and Saruhiko, elbows resting on Misaki’s knees, acquiesced, leaning up to meet him. It was a brief kiss—most of Misaki’s kisses were that way, and when Misaki pulled back, he gazed down at Saruhiko with a fond expression on his face, running his thumb along Saruhiko’s cheek.

It sent a shudder through Saruhiko—not a good one. He’d agreed to this because something about letting Misaki try it on him first had struck him as _too much_ —

He’d wanted to remain clothed. Before, they’d both been naked—but he hadn’t wanted to be the only one with his pants down.Better to be on his knees, and in control of his own reactions, than to be the one begging for more.

He didn’t know how to do this, though, but it couldn’t be _that_ hard.

But for Misaki to look at him like this—for him to touch Saruhiko’s cheek like that—

“I want to ask you something,” said Saruhiko.

“Uh—n-now?”

“You won’t like it.”

Misaki frowned down at him, and Saruhiko tried to read it. It was a squinting sort of frown, which meant it was neither an angry frown nor a sad one. He had confused Misaki.

“I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t want,” said Misaki.

“I’ll suck you off—” said Saruhiko, enjoying Misaki’s face turning bright red again, “—but I don’t want you to look at me or touch me while we do it.”

“Why?”

“I _told_ you you wouldn’t like it,” said Saruhiko. He could feel himself slipping back into that old, triumphant mocking tone—lips curling into a sneer— _so vanilla, Mi-sa-ki, though I know you aren’t a virgin because you fucked me last night and three days before and I fucked you the week before that and six days before that_ —

And, more importantly, he could see Misaki turning bright red. Ah, he would be kicked out tonight. He’d never been kicked out before. It would be new. Would Misaki bellow ‘Monkey!’ the way he always did? It had been quite some time.

Well, this was nice while it lasted.

“If you’re gonna make fun of me, don’t,” said Misaki, pulling down his shirt, and Saruhiko closed his mouth. “I’m not gonna make fun of you for what you want, all right? So don’t… y’know, try to head me off at the pass. That’s not how it needs to be any more, remember?”

Saruhiko stared at him. The bed rustled, as Misaki leaned back on his hands.

He no longer had a King of his own, in anything more than metaphor, and neither did Misaki himself. They were just… two adults, one of whom worked in a bar and one of whom worked for a police force.

It was strange, and it was new, and that was why this had worked so far. _It doesn’t need to be the way that it used to be._ The Captain had said something similar, during that difficult first week after the Slate’s destruction, and they’d had to reorganize the way that Scepter 4 responded to calls to action. Kusanagi had said so, when Saruhiko had come to the bar the first time since the Slate’s destruction—and had let Saruhiko keep his knives, citing that Saruhiko no longer entered the bar under the conditions of a war conference.

_It doesn’t need to be the way it used to be. You don’t need to lose your weapons to enter here, just… keep yourself under control, and remember what threats your weapons are supposed to protect you from_.

“100 point answer,” Saruhiko said. And then, as an added concession, because it was what you were supposed to do, and while Saruhiko had never seen much use for what it was you were supposed to do, if Misaki was going to try he had to try, too, those were the _rules_ , he added, “Sorry.”

Misaki frowned. Saruhiko’s heart started to pound.

“Apology accepted. And, uh, okay. But you don’t… _have_ a blindfold, do you?”

In answer, Saruhiko reached up and pulled on Misaki’s beanie, just a brief tug, to explain what he meant. Once, he might have just pulled it down over Misaki’s eyes, and laughed at him—

_That’s not how this needs to be_.

_You can ask permission_.

“Uh,” said Misaki, voice strangely high-pitched. “Really?”

“Forget it,” said Saruhiko. “It’s fine. Just close your eyes.”

Misaki pulled down his beanie, head facing forward defiantly, and still a little bit down, as though he was still looking at Saruhiko.

“Nope,” Misaki said. “You asked. I wanna watch you—”

_That’s the problem_ , Saruhiko almost said. Something told him that Misaki would feel hurt by that. He might still have been watching Saruhiko, through the beanie. But at least Saruhiko didn’t have to see that soft, almost adoring expression. What was he supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to react?

How many years had he wanted Misaki’s attention? The things he’d done to get it—the things he’d _said_ —and here Misaki was, neither shouting at him nor even excitedly grinning—just a small smile, at the edges of his mouth.

“—but you don’t want to be watched,” continued Misaki, and Saruhiko was suddenly aware of how closely he was watching Misaki. Was he making Misaki nervous? Well, it’d only be fair, at this point. “Or touched. Uh. You’re not gonna want to tie my hands back?”

Saruhiko started to laugh.

“Good idea. You want that, Misaki?”

Misaki grimaced, cheeks crinkling up around his nose as he wrinkled his face in a frown. Saruhiko half-formed the words _forget it_ —

“Do it. Use your belt. How come I never get to see you laugh?”

There was a pause. Underneath the hem of the beanie, Saruhiko could see Misaki’s cheeks going even darker.

“Not if you hate it,” mumbled Saruhiko. “It’s fine. Just lean back, and don’t touch my face.”

He could see Misaki’s throat work as he swallowed, but he didn’t understand why—not until he looked closer, and saw Misaki’s pulse pounding.

“I don’t know why you want this, without being touched,” said Misaki. His voice was rough. “I’m… fine with this. But I don’t get why _you_ are. You’ll have to explain it to me, but you don’t have to explain it now.”

Saruhiko was silent for a moment, a question on the tip of his tongue. Misaki answered before he could ask it.

“Because I want to trust you.”

Saruhiko undid his belt, and pulled it through the loops. Misaki exhaled. Saruhiko leaned up, arms wrapping around Misaki’s waist, nose pressed to Misaki’s chest, as Misaki let Saruhiko wrap the belt around his wrists, and tie it in a loose knot.

“It won’t hold,” said Saruhiko.

“I’ll hold it. It’s… not the point to tie me up so I can’t get out, right?”

Saruhiko nodded, and then remembered that Misaki couldn’t see him.

“Right,” admitted Saruhiko.

Misaki took hold of each end of the belt, holding the knot in place, and leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. The bed creaked underneath him, and his elbows bent at a strange angle. Saruhiko had the sudden realization that most of this was… unnecessary. Misaki would have done as he asked, even if he didn’t understand why.

Saruhiko unbuttoned and unzipped Misaki’s fly, taking a moment to pull Misaki’s cock out.

_That has to go in my mouth._

He swallowed, and covered his mouth with his hand. _Gross_. 

Misaki was half-hard already, panting, and shifting to find a better way to balance himself on the bed. Anticipating, Saruhiko supposed, what Saruhiko was currently putting off.

It wasn’t that Saruhiko didn’t want to do it. But if he didn’t _like_ it—and he could not, currently, imagine how he would—

“You’re okay?”

Saruhiko stared up at him. He’d noticed the pause, apparently.

“What makes you think otherwise?”

Misaki bit his lip, and Saruhiko saw a chance. He closed his mouth around the tip of Misaki’s cock—bitter, _gross_ —

It had the desired effect. Misaki moaned, thighs tightening in a way that suggested that if he hadn’t been in such an awkward position, his hips would have thrust forward. 

It was worth the taste—worth the salt and the sweat, to watch Misaki’s mouth fall open, to feel the weight of him on Saruhiko’s tongue. Strange. This was not nearly as different from stroking Misaki with his hands, as he’d thought it would be. It was... difficult, to be sure, his jaw would ache after a few more moments of this, but...

“Saru, fuck,” managed Misaki. “T-teeth—”

How was he supposed to—? He pulled back, swallowed a little bit, and reconsidered his approach. It might have been easier if Misaki had been lying down.

But then, Misaki looked good like this, back arched, shifting on the bed—Saruhiko smiled. Misaki wouldn’t find anything comfortable, not like this. He’d have to concentrate too hard on staying balanced.

It was a good look for him. Teeth gritted, cheeks bright red, muscles tense—Saruhiko was able to see how strong Misaki was. He wasn’t tall, but he’d grown up to be rather… wiry, Saruhiko supposed the word was. The muscles in his forearms rippled as he shifted. Under Saruhiko’s hands, Misaki’s calves were hard. All that skateboarding, Saruhiko supposed.

Nothing Saruhiko hadn’t seen before, but with Misaki’s eyes covered, Saruhiko could look him over, and Misaki did not have to know how closely he was being examined. How long had it been since Saruhiko had first wondered what this would be like? He bit his lip, and undid his own fly, running his hand over himself—not quite enough to do much, but then, at this point… it didn’t take much, for Saruhiko's breath to catch in his chest.

“Come _on_ ,” moaned Misaki. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“ _What kind of answer is that?_ ”

Misaki's indignation... how familiar. How _fun_.

Saruhiko leaned up, wrapping his arm around Misaki’s hips, and cupping Misaki’s cock in his other hand. Manageable. He curled his hand against Misaki’s back, kneeling up further to see if he could take Misaki deeper, mindful this time of his lips and teeth.

It was a short-lived attempt. He licked his lips, and tried again.

“Doesn’t taste good,” murmured Saruhiko.

“Then don’t do it.”

“I like seeing you.”

Misaki made a strange noise, but it was almost entirely the sort of noise that Saruhiko expected Misaki to make. A half-strangled groan, that made his back arch.

“T-tell me that again,” mumbled Misaki.

“I like seeing you,” said Saruhiko. It was easier to say a second time, now that he knew Misaki wanted to hear it. He couldn’t help a little bit of a smile, even knowing that Misaki couldn’t see it. “And that you can’t see me. Tell me, what’s _that_ like?”

He ran his thumb over the tip of Misaki’s cock, letting his other hand curl against Misaki’s back. Misaki’s knees tightened around him.

“Same as ever,” mumbled Misaki. “You know I never know what you’re going to do. You know I—I like that about you. You're always so—”

“‘So’—what, exactly?”

“So…” Misaki’s toes curled. “You always surprise me. Do I have to find another way to tell you _that_ , too? I will. But—come _on_ —”

Just to see how Misaki liked having that answered quickly, Saruhiko took him in his mouth again, finding a rhythm that didn't make his neck ache too much—a balance between hands and mouth, that didn’t make Saruhiko's jaw hurt too much.

Misaki, it turned out, liked it very much when Saruhiko obeyed him. Saruhiko could have counted the breaths before Misaki was panting, “Saru, I'm going to—”

As expected, it didn't taste good, but Saruhiko—not exactly aware of what else he could have done--ended up swallowing before he realized exactly what was happening. Saruhiko sat back, wiping his mouth, stroking Misaki through with his hand, and wiping it off on Misaki’s pants.

“Can I take my hands out of the belt now?” asked Misaki breathlessly.

“Yeah,” mumbled Saruhiko, and the word was barely out of his mouth before Misaki had shoved up the beanie and was tugging Saruhiko up onto the bed with him by the shirt. He very nearly knocked Misaki over backwards, but they found their balance. Saruhiko ended up, gracelessly, straddling Misaki’s lap. He half-missed Misaki’s mouth in their first attempt to kiss afterwards, something open-mouthed and messy, but soft.

After they’d parted—Misaki licking his lips a little nervously, obviously stifling a grimace—Misaki’s hand came up behind his neck, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Saruhiko rested his forehead on Misaki’s shoulder.

“Let me,” mumbled Misaki, and his hand found Saruhiko’s fly, tugging him out of his boxers, and stroking him, a little gracelessly, but his hand on Saruhiko’s neck anchored Saruhiko in a comforting way, and it wasn’t long before Saruhiko’s hands curled around Misaki’s back, hips jerking forward as he finished.

Saruhiko buried his nose in the crook of Misaki’s neck, glasses digging into the bridge of his nose.

“Should’ve seen the way you looked, all tied up,” he mumbled. “Did you like that?”

Misaki pushed him off, and lay down. For a brief moment, Saruhiko thought he’d gone too far, but Misaki took hold of his sleeve and pulled him down, to lay together in the bed. He crashed onto his elbow and had to adjust, fully aware his arm would fall asleep in approximately a minute or so.

“Yeah,” said Misaki. His voice, so much deeper than it used to be, rumbled through the bed, Misaki’s breath tickling his cheek.

But Misaki’s arm—heavier, always, than he remembered it being from the times they’d lain like this before—rested on his waist, and he couldn't bring himself to move. Misaki wanted him here.

“So, you don't mind being touched now,” said Misaki.

That required a response. Saruhiko nodded.

“I just have to keep these things straight,” said Misaki, eyes shutting, and voice softening. “Something else you have to tell me, okay?”

Saruhiko frowned, and set his glasses on the bedside table.

“What else?”

Misaki’s eyes opened, drowsily and maddeningly slow.

“I mean, that’s something else you have to tell me. When you do or don’t want to be touched. That’s all. What did you think I meant?”

Why did this have to be so _difficult_? 

“Never mind.”

Saruhiko shut his own eyes again, and buried his face in the pillow. Did it matter, if they kicked off their dirtied clothes now, or could it wait? Saruhiko decided it could wait. Was he needed back at base tonight? No, his phone hadn’t rung and his lack of a roommate meant no one would notice.

Misaki shifted in the bed, tugging up the blankets. Saruhiko opened his eyes, just in time to catch Misaki’s face as he let himself relax into the covers, fortunate enough to (again) not be caught watching Misaki.

Maybe it wasn’t... fair, to never let Misaki see him. Maybe next time it would be Misaki’s turn, to blindfold him.

That was something to be brought up in the morning. Just before he left for Scepter 4 again, he thought. Whisper it in Misaki’s ear, just before he got out of bed... hm, he'd have to leave while Misaki was still asleep, anyway, to get back to work before his subordinates came in to the office—

“Why are you smiling like that?” demanded Misaki. Saruhiko, relaxed as he was, managed to avoid jumping a foot in the air. He’d been under the impression Misaki was asleep.

“Why are you watching me sleep?”

He opened his eyes, long after Misaki had spoken, gauging the indignation in his tone, and Misaki grinned back at him.

_This will not be like the way things used to be_ , Saruhiko promised himself. _Never, never again_ , and he grinned back.

**Author's Note:**

> "His lack of a roommate meant no one would notice."
> 
> Everyone's going to notice, kiddo.


End file.
